


Capacitance

by nonelvis



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonelvis/pseuds/nonelvis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christina receives an unexpected visitor, and an equally unexpected adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capacitance

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as all plot and no porn, and ended up less plot and more porn. I expect that will be fine with most of you.

There are few noises Lady Christina de Souza expects to hear at 3:23am: rain pattering against her windows, or perhaps the droning whine of a car alarm. On special nights, the soft snick of her wire cables as she descends from a great height.

The _wheeze wheeze thump_ coming from the patio is definitely not on the list.

Nor is a high-pitched chirping, or the hiss of the glass door sliding back on its track, or the squeak of a rubber tread on her floor.

That's how Christina finds herself aiming a torch and a Taser at the Doctor, at approximately 3:24am.

"You really ought to learn how to knock," she says.

"And risk disturbing your beauty sleep? Don't mind me; I'll be in and out before you know it." He scratches behind his ear, looking a bit sheepish, and starts heading for the door leading to the hallway.

"Oh, no, you don't." Christina flicks on her bedside lamp and turns off the torch. Best to keep her weapon aimed at the Doctor for now, she decides, and tracks him until he finally seems to realise she's serious, and stops in the doorway.

"Really, I just need one little thing, and I'll be on my way again. That is, if you wouldn't mind putting down that gun."

"Since the gun appears to be the only thing keeping you from taking something from my flat, I don't think so."

"Christina, Christina. It's not as if that idol really belongs to you in the first place." He leans casually against the doorjamb, crossing his arms and watching her carefully with those lovely brown eyes of his.

Christina lowers the Taser. Men. They need to be less ... distracting.

"What idol?" she asks.

"A gold idol of the goddess Kreekukk, embedded with Delonian turquoise, which has a unique radiological signature I can track with the ol' sonic screwdriver. Which I have. To your flat."

"Maybe I've got something like that," she says. "But if I did, I've no reason to give it to you."

The Doctor steps forward with the confident, unhurried air of a man accustomed to getting exactly what he wants. If Christina were a weaker woman, she might crumble in the face of this arrogance.

But she's not. She is Lady Christina de Souza, and she straightens her shoulders, looks the Doctor right in the eye, and determinedly shuts off the part of her brain busy considering what that spot below his left ear might taste like.

"This idol is very important, Christina. It can literally stop a war before it happens. Now, come on, be fair: you've probably got loads of things you've acquired over the years lying about. You don't need one puny little idol."

Christina taps a finger against her cheek. "If that idol's the one I'm thinking of, I liberated it from Greta Hudson's collection. The stuck-up cow doesn't really appreciate what she's got anyway."

"That's the spirit! Now, if you don't mind ..."

"You're not going anywhere yet, Doctor," Christina says, yanking the Doctor back by the arm before he can make it to the door. "I'm not giving you the idol. Not without a trip in that blue box of yours."

"And I'm not bringing you with me. I told you, I travel alone now. And besides, it's too dangerous."

"Then you might need someone to keep you out of trouble."

"Christina ... ." He's starting to whine. That's good. Always important to keep the upper hand where men – and her property, no matter how she acquired it – are concerned.

"That's the deal, Doctor. No little blue box, no idol."

"Bring your backpack," he grumbles, and heads down the hallway, clutching the screwdriver.

 

* * *

 

"Your ship is much nicer than I'd have expected from the outside. Not to mention somewhat bigger."

"You should never judge on appearances, Christina. It's bad manners, and in the TARDIS' case, not terribly accurate."

Christina runs her fingers over the pitted coral rim of the console, letting the vibrations from the ship's engine thrum through her fingertips. As a child, she once stuck a finger in an electric socket to see what it felt like: an initial shock, followed by a prickling buzz that lit her from tip to toe. The TARDIS is all gentle sparks and no unpleasant jolt, just a hum suffusing her body, warming her all over.

_No wonder he can't stop touching it,_ she thinks, watching the Doctor caress the knobs and levers on the control panels. The room begins to pitch and roll, and Christina plants her feet and lets her arms swing loose, surfing the motion.

The Doctor smiles mischievously at her. Christina isn't touching the console, but electricity crackles through her just the same.

* * *

 

"Welcome to Delonia," the Doctor says, gesturing at the sun-drenched panorama of the city below, and the forest and mountain range delineating the horizon. He's landed them on a broad rooftop covered with gravel. Annoying stuff, gravel – even Christina's preferred light-soled leather boots make noise on this sort of surface.

"I take it you landed us five stories up for a reason," says Christina, pacing the rooftop, kicking sprays of gravel where she sees it piling up. First things first: locate any unexpected bumps or pits that could trip her later. She carefully makes her way to a bulkhead door and examines its lock. "Strictly for amateurs," she proclaims, and digs through the backpack for her lockpicks. "I'll have this sorted in a moment."

"Wait! You can't go down there yet. I haven't started the atmospheric excitation."

"The what?"

"Atmospheric excitation. Creating a freak thunderstorm on this otherwise beautiful day. Delonian legend says that's how the gods will return the idol to the temple and bring about a century of peace. And, as it happens, it's also how the gods _took_ the idol from the temple – well, really, more like Sarah Jane pressing a few buttons while I did a bit of sneaking about. Remind me to tell you why a long scarf can come in handy for these sorts of jobs."

"You'll have to pardon me if I decline to take snatch and grab advice from a man who couldn't even sneak into my flat."

"Oi! Not my fault if you're a light sleeper," he huffs. "I can be quite sneaky if I try. An absolutely superlative sneaker. Master of sneakery, me."

His mock indignance is really quite charming, though perhaps it's just the way the corners of his mouth dimple when he starts to smile. Either way, it's not helping Christina's focus, and lack of focus only leads to the local jail. She closes her eyes for a moment, mentally shaking him off.

"Very well, then," she says. "If you'd like my professional expertise, you have to tell me everything you know about what it's like inside – location of the target, personnel rotations, alarms and traps ..."

"Ooh, quite serious about this, aren't we?"

"If I want to keep enjoying myself, I can't afford to get caught."

"Of course, of course." The Doctor takes the backpack from Christina and removes the idol, hefting it in his hand. "Well, the first thing you need to know is ..."

* * *

 

It turns out that the first thing you _really_ need to know is that letting the High Priests of Kreekukk see you hanging upside-down in their sacred sepulchre is a very bad idea.

"You didn't tell me they'd be in the middle of a prayer service!" Christina yells while she and the Doctor scramble up the last two flights of stairs to the roof, hotly pursued by seven angry priests brandishing good, solid, skull-cracking candlesticks.

"I don't subscribe to the church newsletter! How was I supposed to know? Now _come on!_" The Doctor reaches for Christina's hand, yanking her up the stairs and barrelling through the last door into the torrential rain. A trail of gravel and water droplets spits out behind them as they sprint towards the TARDIS.

This is when it's best. When Christina's running, when she knows she's got those extra few steps on someone that means soon she'll be able to look behind her and laugh. She turns to the Doctor, fumbling his key into the lock, pushing her inside the door and shoving it closed behind him, and sees that he's got the same goofy, exhilarated grin on his face that she does.

So once the TARDIS is secure, and she can hear the agitated howling from the priests outside, she presses the Doctor up against the door and kisses him very, very soundly.

* * *

 

Christina knows they must be flying, because the Doctor slammed into some lever while she was unbuttoning his shirt, and that glowing piston in the centre of the console started moving, and then all she could hear instead of the priests' angry chatter was the Doctor's groan as she tongued one of his nipples. He squirms when she reaches the hollowed point below his breastbone, and she pauses for a moment, her hands on his chest.

"Two hearts?"

He nods.

"Good," she says. "I like a man with stamina."

* * *

 

Their first time, they never even make it out of the console room. Christina straddles the Doctor on the jumpseat, letting him hold her in place while she rocks above him and gasps when he takes a long lick across her chest. His legs are braced against the TARDIS console, giving him enough leverage to thrust deeply inside Christina.

He's a remarkable kisser, when she can pry his lips away from her breasts. She'd suspected from that very first kiss she gave him back on the bus that he was enjoying things despite the shock factor, and sure enough, he's taking his time with her now: chasing after her lips when she pulls away to moan as he grinds his hips in just the right way; exploring her mouth thoroughly with soft touches from his tongue that make Christina shiver when she considers how they might feel elsewhere.

When he stops kissing her and drops his head, eyes closed, she starts to rock a little faster on his lap, spreading her knees wider so she can rub harder against him. His grip on her arse tightens, and Christina moves even more quickly now, suddenly finding herself as close as the Doctor must be and craving more friction, more of his tongue sliding over hers, and she tilts his head up to kiss him, hard.

He thrusts twice more and whimpers into her mouth. Christina feels him pulsing inside her with that peculiar doubled beat, not quite as fast as one of her favourite toys, but still enough that between that and a few quick swipes of his thumb against her clit, she follows him over the edge.

She intersperses catching her breath with soft kisses along the side of his neck. After all, that spot below his left ear really is quite tasty.

"That'll do for a start," she says.

He arches an eyebrow at her. "A start?"

"I did say I liked a man with stamina."

"So you did," he replies, gently stroking her inner thigh. "Well, then. Bedroom's that way."

* * *

 

Christina's warm, so warm, with the Doctor spooned tight along her back as he fucks her slowly, one hand kneading her breasts, the other splayed over her hipbone. She's already come twice since they moved to his bed. The Doctor seems to be treating her challenge quite seriously.

He slides his lips along the curve of Christina's neck, nipping lightly with each steady thrust. The hand on her hipbone creeps forward, lower, not quite where Christina wants it, but enough to make her moan and ponder ways to tease him just as mercilessly.

She squeezes the Doctor's cock and finds that it makes his rhythm stutter, then speed up, so she does it again, and again, until his motions are shallow enough she can tell he's going to lose control. Christina curves her head back to kiss him while guiding his hand between her legs, and finally, electric current ripples from her toes all the way up her body. She cries out when she comes, dragging him with her.

She lies next to him quietly, letting the sparks fizzle out in her body one by one until there's just her, and him, and the rapid thud of his hearts against her back.

"All right," she murmurs. "That should hold me for a while." She stretches her arms towards the ceiling, flexing her toes and calves, letting each muscle tauten and relax.

"Oh, did I wear you out? I thought you liked a man with ..."

"Yes, yes, I know." Christina turns to smile at him. "But nothing's worth doing halfway, is it?"

"I once had a long conversation about that with a man named Zeno. I tell you, it made even my head spin."

"You're a very silly man. I think I'll enjoy travelling with you."

"Christina," says the Doctor, his voice suddenly low and measured, "you're not travelling with me."

"You can't be serious." He really can't be, not after that thing with his tongue and her foot and some kind of plush alien fabric that slithered over her skin. It's not as though she's done that with everyone.

"I'm completely serious."

"So this is it?" Christina asks. "No more alien planets to save? No more thrilling chases through time and space? You're just taking me home?"

"That's right," he replies. "Home. Earth. Your flat. Where it seems there might be one or two other things the sonic twigged to while I was looking for that idol."

Denying her the stars is one thing; taking away her toys is another. "Oh, no you don't. You want anything else of mine, spaceman, you know our deal."

"Well," he drawls, "we'll have to see about that."

Christina crosses her arms over her chest, narrows her eyes at him. It's a look that's caused many a man to quake with fear, but the Doctor is either unfazed or oblivious.

"You're impossible," she says.

"In a surprising number of ways," he replies.

* * *

 

Christina steps out of the TARDIS into her bedroom, where the antique clock she keeps on her nightstand reads 4:23am.

"It's really only been an hour?" She picks up the clock, fingers rubbing the dented brass case. Stolen from ... it's been too long. She's forgotten.

It doesn't matter. What matters is the thrill of unknown possibilities, the way they make her body hum. The way she can tell they make him hum, too.

"Come on," she says. "Take me with you. I'm ready for anything." She sidles back to the ship, and whispers into the Doctor's ear while she trails her index finger down the sensitive curve of his neck, making his breath hitch. "We could try that thing with the furry face cloth again."

He grasps her hand and presses one soft, lingering kiss to her palm. A spark sizzles up her arm, down her torso, settling low in her belly.

"Later," he says. "I'm a man of my word, Christina, and I do owe you another trip." He steps backwards into the ship, then digs deep into a jacket pocket, removing something Christina thought she had buried in her backpack's most hidden compartment. "After all, I need to return Kreekukk's sacred vase to the temple."

"Hey!" Christina reaches for her prize, but the Doctor is too quick, and the TARDIS door bangs shut in her face.

The _wheeze wheeze thump_ noise that woke her earlier begins again. Soon, she's left standing next to a square impression in her carpet, with nothing to show for her expedition besides a sore body and several related but distinctly pleasant memories.

She sheds her clothes and crawls into bed. _This will do for now,_ she thinks.

She lifts the covers over her head, and falls asleep with a smile on her face.


End file.
